A bitter cold rain blanketed the grounds as winter fought against the inevitable turning of time, desperate to hold on despite the easily recognizable signs of spring. The days previous had been drenched in warm sunlight. Flowers had started to bloom in brilliant clusters of golden and violet; however, they would now be covered in a shimmering coat of icy crystals come morning. It was as if ol' Jack Frost needed one last laugh before bidding adieu.

In the silence of the Headmaster's office, Severus Snape listened to the soft rhythm of the rain patter against the roof overhead. His dark eyes were closed and his head lay against his steepled fingers. He could feel the anxiety pressing in around him like the darkness now pressing against the rain streaked window.

He had spent nearly a week weighing his options. It seemed every path was riddled with potential hurdles making each more dangerous than the next. If he could just wait a little bit longer… No, he had put this off for far too long; any more time spent calculating his choices would be mere procrastination.

Rising from his seat, he took a large stack of parchment from his desk and wandered absent-mindedly towards the fire. One scroll at a time, he began to feed the flames, watching as the dancing heat rose up to consume the pages in bursts of orange light. The sudden warmth lapped at his face and he narrowed his eyes at the intensity; however, his mind was elsewhere. Crumpling the final paper, he tossed it in and reluctantly turned to face the empty room.

His eyes scanned the dimly lit office as if trying to commit the image to memory. All the things he had acquired and here he was about to throw them all away…and for what? I could just stay he thought darkly but the promise he had made quickly drove the idea from his mind.

The clock on the wall began to softly chime the hour. The dinner party Lucius Malfoy was holding in the Dark Lord's absence would soon be coming to a close and the guests would be saying their farewells. Severus had declined his invitation with a calculated amount of regret; however, little did Lucius know that he had given Severus all the information he needed to formulate a plan.

With one last internal war of conscience, Severus sighed and turned to the coat rack. He picked the heavier of the two traveling cloakes and shrugged it on, his shaking hands fumbling the iron buttons. With any luck he would only be gone a few hours.

Harry dropped the towering stack of dishes next to the copper sink and quickly grabbed for the top plate that had begun to slide from its spot. His fingertips brushed the decorative edge but it twisted just out of reach. He had barely enough time to scrunch up his face before the loud crack of shattering glass filled the kitchen. Letting out a low sigh, he listened intently for approaching footsteps but was met with only a chorus of laughter from the adjacent setting area.

Lucius had really pulled out all the stops for tonight's party. It seemed that with Voldemort gone for the week things had returned to normal within the manor. There was a fine dinner, lavish drinks, and an abundance of guests, each trying to out do the other with their exaggerated stories. Harry was merely the cherry on top for Lucius; the Boy Who Lived now his personal servant. Who could possibly top that?

Sucking his teeth in frustration, Harry turned to the task at hand, resolving to clean up the mess later. He pushed the stopper into the drain and turned on the warm tap. Clear, clean water began to fill the deep basin and he couldn't resist sinking his arms beneath the rippling surface. For a brief moment he relaxed as the water splashed against his skin, his eyes closing in solace. But this was no time for relaxation. Adding the soap, he let the bubbles form before turning off the faucet.

Scraping the scraps into a bowl, Harry dropped the first dish into the sink. Suds rose into the air as they broke away from the large mass that had formed on top of the warm water. Without thinking, Harry reached up to grab them and was rewarded with a sharp pull along his back as the lacerations pulled taut. He let out a rigid breath, his hands tightening into fists against the counter's edge.

He was almost certain they were infected. After a week the skin around them had turned a vibrant shade of crimson and was now warm to the touch. He had nearly passed out while taking a shower that morning. Lucius had been adamant about him being presentable for the party, going as far as having his hair trimmed, but he had no desire to heal the gaping wounds.

Taking a deep settling breath, Harry set back to work cautiously. The chore was dully repetitive: scrape off the remaining food, wash, rinse, set out to dry, repeat. Between the stack of plates piled high beside him and the myriad pots and pans used to create the meal he would be there all night.

"Master Lucius has requested more drinks in the sitting room, " a gruff voice said behind him.

Closing his eyes in annoyance, Harry turned to the old house-elf standing in the doorframe. He was older than Dobby and bore a striking resemblance to Kreacher. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time he layed eyes on the grouchy creature.

"Of course," he replied bitterly, wiping the water from his hands with a dirty towl and tossing it over his shoulder.

He collected the serving tray from the counter and loaded it with six crystal goblets which he carefully filled to the brim with sparkling red wine. Slowly, as to not spill his drinks, he carried it down the hall and entered the noisy study. The guests were all seated near the roaring fire. They were chattering loudly but Harry had no desire to hear their conversation. He just wanted to be back in the kitchen, alone.

"Ah, our drinks," Lucius said, standing and gesturing to Harry as he entered.

Harry immediately averted his eyes. He had endured that sneering face all night but now he could feel his anger beginning to boil beneath the surface. He was tired of playing the show pony. Quickly, he placed the tray on the tea table and turned to make his exit before the dam holding back his emotions burst and he did something foolish.

"Not so fast, boy," Lucius called in an amused voice. "Hand our guests their drink and take the tray back to the kitchen."

It took every ounce of resolve for Harry to turn and politely begin handing out the goblets to the awaiting party. He had a brief image of himself tossing Lucius's glass into that bemused face, but the ache in his back reminded him of the consequences. Instead, he presented it with tight pressed lips, his eyes narrowed with clear loathsome anger. Lucius's smile only broadened.

"There's a good boy," he praised sarcastically and patted Harry's head like a child. The room erupted with chuckles of tipsy amusement.

Spinning on his heal, Harry grabbed the serving tray and marched from the room before anyone could stop him. Once inside the kitchen, he slung the silver disk with a furious cry. It smashed into the opposite wall, ringing with the vibration of the collision. His back radiated with pain and he sunk to his knees, hands coming up to block the screams that were threatening to break from his lips.

"Potter," a familiar voice whispered.

Startled, Harry staggered to his feet and peered around the room. The last time he had heard that voice it had been accompanied by agonizing pain. At last, his wide eyes fell on the man standing by the opposite door that led into the dinning room. His greasy black hair half hid his face in shadows but Harry could still see the strain in those narrowed eyes.

"Come on, we have to go," Snape said with an advancing step.

Harry mirrored the movement, fear clogging his brain. What was going on?

"I-I'm not going anywhere with you," Harry said stubbornly after finding his voice.

"Keep your voice down," Snape hissed as he drew closer. There was a stiffness to his movements as if he were trying hard to hide the sound of his footsteps. "We don't have time for explanation. Just get over here…"

"No," Harry said and skirted around the island, glad to have something between him and the Headmaster. Something was wrong and Harry was in no mood to find out what. "This is some sick test. You- you just want another reason…"

"Don't be thick, Potter," Snape growled. He had come to a stop but the urgency had not left his words. There was another round of cackling laughter and he glanced nervously over his shoulder before fixing Harry with a scathing look that boarded on desperation. "If we don't go now we'll both be facing far worse than a flogging."

"This is a trick," Harry repeated, the sound coming more loudly than he had intended, the shrillness verging on hysteria. Snape couldn't expect him to believe it, not after the whipping he had given him a week ago. No, there was something more sinister at work here. Voldemort had put him up to it and as soon as Harry accepted he would be facing some grotesque punishment for trying to escape.

Fury twisted Snape's face into a soured glower and he lunged around the counter. Harry, amazed at his own reflexes, scurried around until he was out of reach; it was like a wild game of Ring Around the Rosie.

"Potter," Snape growled but his face was suddenly drained of color. He straightened, his cold eyes locked on something just over Harry's head.

Before Harry could comprehend the sudden change, a hand clamped tightly onto his shoulder. With a slight jump, he turned his face up to see Lucius Malfoy eyeing Snape, his head tilting in confusion.

"Severus, " he said cheerfully. "I thought you couldn't make it tonight. "

The corners of Snape's mouth rose into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I finished with my paperwork early and thought I would stop by."

"So you came to the kitchen, " Lucius asked, his hand tightening on Harry's shoulder.

"The dinning room actually," Snape corrected but even Harry knew he would have had to pass the sitting room first.

"Funny," Lucius said softly and he pulled Harry back a step. "I would have thought you would have heard us."

Snape's lips pursed slightly at this and his gaze flicked briefly to Harry. For the first time, Harry could see fear hiding behind those dark irises.

"I assumed," he began, taking an innocent step forward but one step was all he was allowed.

Something cold was pressing against Harry's throat. He tried to squirm away but Lucius's grip was now firmly clasping the front of his shirt. He felt a dull hot pull against the skin beneath his jaw and a moment later something warm was trickling down his neck.

"Now, Severus," Lucius hissed, pulling Harry flush with his own body as if using him as a shield. "You wouldn't be here trying to steal the boy would you?"

"Why would I-"

"The Dark Lord's favorite," Lucius said, each word dripping in sarcasm. "I never trusted you, Snape. You have always been the coward that switched sides when it best suited your interests."

Snape let out a cold laugh, his lips curling back to reveal yellow teeth. Shaking his head, he took a confident step forward and withdrew his wand from inside his cloak. In return, Malfoy pressed the knife firmly against Harry's neck, stilling Snape but the smile

remained.

"Not very bright as usual, Malfoy," he whispered. His eyes caught Harry's and he looked pointedly down at the counter to Harry's left.

In a state of panic, Harry missed the signal. His hands were clutching Malfoy's forearm in a feeble attempt to pry him away; however, he caught the second one. Cutting his eyes downward, he could see a dirty steak knife lying on the edge of the granite island. Fear and dread flooded his nerves. Lucius would notice if he reached for it.

"What do you suppose will happen if the Dark Lord returns and you have killed his prized possession," Snape said mockingly. "You know as well as I do that this," he motioned to Harry with his wand, "is an empty threat."

Harry felt Lucius's body stiffen. With slow deliberateness, he dropped his left hand until his fingertips brushed the cool surface beside him. He felt around blindly, to afraid to tilt his head to see exactly where the knife was. Surely, Lucius could feel his heart hammering against his chest. Any minute now he would plunge his dagger into Harry's neck and… and… Images of Ginny flooded Harry's mind and for a minute everything else seemed to dim.

"I don't intend to kill him," Lucius snarled and Harry regained his senses. His fingers bumped the wooden handle and it moved an inch further.

"I'm going to call the Dark Lord," he continued through gritted teeth. "And watch as he tortures the life out of you."

Lucius loosened his grip on Harry's shirt to reach for the dark mark on his arm and Harry seized his opportunity. Grabbing the handle firmly in his hand, he swung the knife downward and buried it into Malfoy's thigh. The man wailed and the dagger at Harry's throat pulled away far enough that he could scramble to the side. There was sharp pull at his cheek as the tip caught him but before Lucius could further the assault he froze, arm and legs snapping together in a full body bind.

Panting, Harry turned to see Snape with wand raised overhead. He was also breathing hard through flared nostrils but he quickly moved into action.

"We have to leave. Now," he snapped as Harry remained rooted to the spot. He grabbed him above the elbow and pulled him towards the open door.

They rushed through the dining room but instead of turning to the entrance hall they moved deeper into the manor. Harry allowed himself to be dragged through the winding halls but the voice in the back of his head was screaming for him to stop. This was Snape, the man who had killed Dumbledore, the man who had whipped him; how could he actually believe he was leading him to safety?

There was a scream from the kitchen behind them and then rushing footsteps. Snape cursed under his breath and set off at a sprint, pulling Harry along despite the lead that had settled in his shoes. They burst through a door at the end of the hall and fresh spring air flooded Harry's nose. How long had it been since he had breathed fresh air?

"Potter," Snape said for Harry had come to a sudden stop. He jerked his arm and Harry quickly shook the fog from his brain. "We have to get beyond the gate before we can apparate."

Harry, clutching a stitch in his side, gave his head a shake. " I… don't think I…"

"We don't have a choice. Now move!"

Pushing every thing from his brain, Harry followed Snape off of the marbel path and into the mucky grounds. They were moving around the manor, apparently trying to double back to the gate. The grass sank beneath his shoes, and several times Harry stumbled, arms waving in order to regain his balance. He was just about to give in when he saw the gates lingering in the distance.

A jet of red narrowly missed his head, its bright light whizzing off into the distance and exploding as it struck a tall hedge. Snape didn't look back as he sent his own spell blindly over his shoulder. They were feet from freedom. Pumping his aching legs, Harry reached for the iron bars, ready to push them wide, but Snape gave him a shove between the shoulder blades that sent him sprawling forward. He threw up his arms, bracing for impact, but he sank through the spindals as if they were made of smoke.

Harry crashed to the ground, scattering white gravel as he skidded to a stop. The small rocks tore through his trousers, embedding themselves into knees. Behind him Snape was just passing through the gate, his arm outstretched, ready to grab Harry. He had just enough time to see the rain of spells speeding towards them before Snape caught hold and he was twisted into oblivion.